(I) - The Mad Game

by PhantomStag458

A continuation of the novel Fifteen Hours, detailing the frontline experiences of a young soldier named Larn. During his tour across the Imperium and his struggle to keep his body and mind whole, he finds that not everything is as clear cut as good against evil. Consequently, the lines between friend and foe slowly begin to blur.

4. Chapter 4

The Gorynych, Gothic Sector, Bhein Morr Subsector – Afternoon Cycle

How easy it was to bend this impressionable spirit to me. Izuru Numerial sat with her head cocked to one side, a slight frown on her face. The youth, Saeros, was fiddling with the internals of the mind-shackle, his fingers working the fibre-thin wires inside the narrow band of wraithbone. This one will do anything for me. Quite smitten he appears with this half-caste ranger. He will be a most useful asset.

"Apologies, my lady." The youth's fingers brushed the skin on Izuru's neck.

"Concentrate on the task at hand."

"If I had the right tools…"

"Then find them, thief."

A shrill, pulsing alarm sounded in the distance."Boarders." Saeros's fingers froze. "The ship is assailed."

"Come." Izuru stood up, knocking Saeros's hand away. "I must see for myself."

"My lady, might it not be better to remain in your quarters, out of harm's way?"

"No." Izuru reached for her cloak. "If there is action to be seen—"

"For your safety."

"Damn my safety. I have been in mortal danger ever since I was brought aboard." Is this the princess's doing? A way to lure me out of my quarters? "And do not interrupt your mistress. What underhive of inequity were you tutored in?"

The very first step Izuru took outside her quarters drew Derin's attention. Planting the butt of his pike in front of Izuru, Derin said, "I must confine you to quarters until the danger has passed."

How dare you. Izuru stared the corsair down.

"I would…" Derin took his pike in to both hands and, without explanation, hurtled away, the two corsairs accompanying him alongside.

Damn this contraption. Izuru clawed at the manacle. "Saeros?"

"Their minds were on the defensive, my lady." Saeros wrung his hands.

Izuru tutted, "come," and made after the corsairs.

"I may be able to bypass the twin circuits with the right tools…" Saeros tagged along beside her.

"Yes… later, corsair. Let us return to the matter another time."

A complete map of the Gorynych Izuru had formed in her mind, with the exception of the lowest deck, and the princess's inner chambers. Consulting the mental layout, Izuru ticked off the twists and turns, noting the complete absence of any guards at the portals linking the segments of the ship together.

"A common occurrence?"

"No, my lady. The sight of the ship's fighters, let alone the ship, is enough to cow most merchantmen." Saeros jumped when he heard a brief exchange of lasfire, pressing a hand to his chest.

That is a lasgun, if ears do not deceive. Standard-issue small-arm of the Imperial Guard. How did humans find their way aboard?

"Be calm, Saeros." With the echo subsiding, shouts could be heard ahead. "Hail, corsair," Izuru called to a small party of corsairs, gathered around a casualty, lying on his back, a short way away from the gate to the portal chamber. Derin, made aware, strode up, raising a palm. "Stray no further, my lady. The order for you to remain in quarters was given."

"Is the situation in hand?" The sweet, boiled odour of lasbolts tickled Izuru's nose. A human stench was in the air, colourful enough for a fine film to layer itself upon Izuru's skin.

"How is he?" Saeros leant around Izuru to see the downed corsair. "Have we any others who are hurt?"

"Everything is under our control. The response party took a casualty. A human was killed also. Prisoners were taken. Please, clear the area before the princess learns of this."

"Humans?" Izuru stiffened. "I will not look upon humans. Only through optics do I observe their kind."

"We deal with human cargo quite often. Curious creatures." Saeros's attention was drawn by a cluster of humans, sitting down, with their hands on their heads. "Manipulative."

"Look if you must. But, do not approach," Derin said. Eleven humans were sat in the centre of the chamber, each one with his hands on his head. Quite a pathetic species. Izuru stepped up behind the wide ring of corsairs encircling the prisoners with bared void sabres. The corsair nearest to her gave a nod. "We know not how or why, lady."

"Filthy creatures." Izuru looked down her nose at the humans. "The stench…"

Of the eleven bearded, gaunt humans, all were clad in dust-stained, torn, fur-lined uniforms, entirely bereft of insignia. The length of the beards varied from human to human. Each one though bore facial hair. No, not quite. Izuru eyed a bullish human, sporting a dark explosion of hair that obscured his mouth, chin, and neck completely. What do you possess, brute? A slim human in a fur-lined parka, the colour of stone-grey, lay on his back in front of the brute. This one went entirely without facial hair; quite the opposite in fact, and looked at least ten years younger than the other humans. This last one is not like the others. Why?

"Did you confirm the death toll?"

"I beg your pardon?" Derin left the cadre and came over. "The death toll stands at one human and one of ours."

"The whelp."

Derin shook his head. "Unconscious. He fainted possibly. We did not bother to check." In his hand was a human small-arm, boxy and scratched all ovee. A faint wisp of smoke drifted from the canted muzzle. "Triplex-pattern lasgun. The only weapon the humans bore."

"They were not expecting opposition…"

"Apparently not. Say what you make of it, Lady Numerial. We are as clueless as you."

"Execute them."

"The princess shall pass judgement."

"At least execute the culprit. The one that killed your warrior." Izuru's hands curled in to fists.

"I am afraid it was he my warriors took."

"Find another."

"The princess shall pass judgement, my lady."

A muscle in her cheek trembling, Izuru glowered at the ragged band of humans, picking out the speck of excrement under the brute's watch. Pathetic. You, whelp, faint as a spineless animal would. Truly despicable.

"The princess summons her circle." Derin gestured towards the door. "Let us exchange knowledge. The princess will pass judgement on the prisoners. You have my word."

"That human looked so young." Saeros mumbled.

"Silence. You will join him."

"Steward to you he may be, Lady Numerial. But, Saeros is corsair and comrade-in-arms to me also."

"Undeserving of respect. Remember your position, corsair. Felarch, I would be seen to the princess's meeting. Let us hurry."

Bowing to her, Derin led Izuru along passages unfamiliar to her, now and again crossing over routes mapped in her head. Shortcuts I can use if needs be.

"Why send one so young in to battle…?"

"Enough! I will hear no more about these humans. They are our enemy. Fit only to fall under our swords and rifles. I hope they taught you that."

"Is it such a personal affront to you, Lady?" Derin asked, creases appearing between his eyebrows. "It is unwise to hate your enemies. Personal feelings have no place in warfare. Carry yourself with a professional conduct in the field, always. Prejudice clouds judgement."

"Why thank you for your professional advice, Felarch. When next in the field, I may remember some of what you said." Izuru's lip curled. Hypocrites and liars.

A steady flow of corsairs streamed through the open double doors, leading inside a spacious chamber with a circular table taking up the floor. Arms of wraithbone, coiled around one another, formed knots that circled the ceiling, spiralling down to the floor.

"Hold." Derin put an arm in front of Izuru. "Apologies. One does not obstruct the prince and princess."

The prince and princess, both in full regalia, swept through the centre of the mass, untouched by either side. At last, you show yourself. Izuru ground her teeth when Saarania glided past, arm-in-arm with Ulthyr; tossing a superior look over her shoulder at Izuru.

"I see the commander is well turned-out, this day," Derin said. "We seek entry to the conference, corsair," he spoke to the two wardens who were seeing the corsairs through the gate.

"Felarch, your name was spoken. The ranger and her steward though, their names were not mentioned. Please step away."

"Very well." Derin retreated. "By invitation only," he said in Izuru's ear. "Back to your quarters?"

"Where else can I go?" Izuru glanced at the corsairs, chatting amicably with each other inside the conference chamber. "Saeros, come."

"I know of a place you can observe from unseen," Saeros murmured, on their way back to Izuru's quarters.

Not with the felarch watching my every move, curse him. Izuru shook her head. I must concede defeat or be locked up once more. Confined to her room, Izuru dismissed Saeros, over his offers to find more food for her. Alone for hours, Izuru lowered her hood, fiddling with the cord that held her bun in place. The injuries those humans bore; the blood from their noses. Is it only pyskers that can pass through the passages unimpeded? Against all expectations, the humans have just proved that the Gorynych's strand of the Webway is indeed stable. So, they are useful for something after all, other than targets, then. Saarania knows this. How will she proceed from here?

Dry fingers tugging at the shackle, Izuru lashed out at a patient knock upon her door. "You were dismissed!"

"I do not serve you." Derin approached through the opening. "A brief moment of your time?"

"Speak, Felarch."

"The conference." Derin offered Izuru his hand. In it sat an earbud and a palm-sized hand recorder. "Such sessions are always recorded in transcript for later study and archive. I have it here, if you would accept it."

"Gratitude." Izuru took both items and examined the pale violet runes adorning the recorder. "Archaic."

"Reliable."

"Indeed." Izuru scratched at the thin welts circling her neck.

"I apologise for the mind-shackle, my lady. This injustice will be removed in short order, though the princess is cautious around new faces."

"I understand. Again, for your aid, I convey my gratitude." Izuru made the sign of Alaitoc against her chest. "Now, go in peace."

Bowing, Derin stepped out. Another simple being so easily bent to my will. Izuru slipped the bud in to her right ear. Another asset.

"…can light be shed upon this freak occurrence?" Saarania said. "I was quite alarmed to hear about the human plague spreading across the threshold of my ship."

"Well, quite clearly, your eminence, the humans, meddlers and degenerates one and all, happened upon a Webway portal and, as curious as they are blundering, strayed through."

Ulthyr's voice interjected. "Every word, knowledge we were previously aware of. Where was the portal located? Why were the humans so ill-prepared? The important questions needing to be asked are avoided as if they are cursed with a pestilence!"

"A human pestilence!"

"Aye. Dispose of them and be done with the matter."

"Can profit not be made from slave auction?"

"As it stands, I trust the Commorrites even less than I trust the humans."

"We are twenty-four cycles out from the nearest Druchii outpost in the Graildark Nebula. To return would confine us for longer within these choking walls. Fresh air, every now and again, is good for the soul."

"Fresh air it is then. A suitable planet must be sought."

"Once more, the question of the humans is evaded," Ulthyr growled. "I do not advocate auctioning them up, or even simply selling them at fixed rate. Acute emaciation, near-starvation is evident in the human's body mass. What use is a slave if he is not in peak physical condition. We cannot sell or even give away the dozen or so in our custody. I say confine them to vacuum. They are of no use to us."

"A sport…?"

"Sport, Vliss?"

"A hunt. Since fresh air and sunlight is sought after by most of us, I advocate finding a habitable planet, setting the humans loose in different areas, and employing the trackers in our company to hunt them down. A competition might be had. I will gladly start a wager."

"Is money truly your master, Vliss?"

"You do seem to lose a lot of it when we are playing, Dragut. Sore?"

A loud thump of a fist slamming down upon the table, rattled the glasses, provoking outbursts from several different corsairs.

"Dragut, sit down or leave the chamber. You forget yourself," Ulthyr shouted over the ongoing arguments. "The matter of the humans shall not be passed over. My vote goes to carrying out a system-wide scan, spreading the net further if necessary, and locating a planet with a breathable atmosphere. Your eminence?"

A pause. "Our honoured guest has yet to prove herself. She eats our food, sleeps in our chambers, and for what? Eyes have never witnessed a ranger in action. Let the hunt be led by Izuru Numerial. I will give her a full planetary cycle to track and eliminate each and every one of the humans."

"Putting a weapon in her hands invites danger upon you, your eminence."

"She will not be alone. Her steward and a felarch will accompany her. Air observation will keep the ranger in their sights too. Are there fuel concerns if a gunship remains on-station for the full cycle?"

"A single changeover will be necessary, your eminence. I guarantee there will not be a break in observation. Will it be an elimination order if the ranger takes arms against her escort and flees?"

"The ranger will not flee as long as I hold what is dear to her. She will return. If proof is brought of her kills, and she has fulfilled her obligation, I will keep her on as an asset."

"She is dangerous, your eminence."

"Able to sever a blade of grass at three-and-a-half thousand yards…"

At the ensuing laughter, Izuru dug her fingernails in to her thigh.

"So, will I be able to hunt, or…?"

"Ha, Vliss! Ever the mercenary."

"I hear rumours that this ranger is part round-ear. I cannot fathom how such a loathsome product was forced out from between her mother's legs, or even conceived in the first place. Child by rape perhaps…"

"If so obsessed, Vliss, ask her yourself."

"And be dragged through the corridors by your hair for your troubles."

More laughter frittered about the gathered corsairs. Glasses clinked upon the table top.

"I would see the fire simmering within her before passing judgement."

"Yes, your eminence. A system-wide scan will be performed immediately."

"Then attend to your duties, all of you. That will be all."

A low murmur filled the room as the corsairs formed small groups and chatted to one another on their way out of the chamber. Is that all? Izuru waited for the transcript to end, her finger pressed to her earpiece.

"Tired, Uly?" Saarania asked.

"Warm, clean air and an open sky is what I dream of." Ulthyr drew a long, slow breath. "Do not let the ranger fly from your fingers. Here, she is within your power. Out there, armed, she will turn on you the instant you place that long rifle in her hands."

"Does the ranger take up so much of your thoughts, Uly, that you forget that we have her two children in our care?"

"My thoughts, with Vliss's and every other being aboard this ship, are taken up by this intriguing stranger, Saarania."

"Hm." Saarania placed her empty glass beside Ulthyr's. "Intriguing, is she? How else would you describe her?"

"You would ask if I regarded her as attractive, my love? I wholeheartedly admit that such a foreign beauty holds an even stranger allure."

"Do you think of her when you are with me, Uly? Is it her face. Those breasts. Or is it what lies below that awakens you?"

"Invite her to our chamber…"

"Aha, no, not possible, Uly. You have as much chance of lying with her as Dragut does at beating Vliss at Opyx. With me though…" Saarania giggled.

Over the impatient swish and rustle of the corsair's clothing rubbing against one another, Ulthyr laughed. "There is only you—"

Izuru silenced the fumbling pair, replaying the important parts of the discussion until she had a clear enough insight in to what would be happening over the next few cycles. Damn that lech for holding me in that regard. Damn them all for looking at me in such a lustful manner! Standing up, Izuru paced around. Aerial observation cancels out any moves I might make to shed my escort. Saeros is coming, most likely Derin will too. But what good will it be if the twins are held within the princess's chambers, and I am scouring a planetscape for a band of pathetic humans? Useless! Izuru slapped her thigh. What can I do but carry out the princess's orders? I must find entry to her chambers. Izuru plucked the earpiece out and tossed it aside. Unfastening the clasps of her boots, she kicked the pair off and knelt upon the carpet to pray.

---

"Of the nineteen planets in the subsector, eleven are home to large urban environments, your eminence. Three are mining planets, anther three are so-called 'hive worlds', and two are classed as agricultural worlds."

"Well, do you or do you not have a suitable world for us, shipmaster? This sounds like useless knowledge to me." Saarania folded her arms and stared through the blown-up map of the subsector at the Gorynych's master. "Speak."

"Platis Five, your eminence." The master's hand spun the map around. "Remote, breathable atmosphere, temperate climate, multiple biomes. Ice at the poles, forests, deserts, mountain ranges, jungles, plains; quite suitable for habitation."

"Uninhabited or occupied?" Saarania picked out a small, blue planet in the furthest corner of the subsector.

"Human occupation I am afraid, your eminence. Though the Druchii's knowledge delves no further in to the human's disposition on Platis."

"Surely such a remote world – and an agricultural world at that – would house only garrison troops. Planetary Defence Force unsuited for off-world deployment," Ulthyr said. "We are more than two sectors away from Port Maw. This entire subsector is host to no patrols of any race. Platis has my vote."

"How soon can we make planetfall?"

"Less than a full cycle, your eminence."

"Do it."

"We make for Platis Five, your eminence." The master bowed, taking his leave.

"Did you ever wonder where the humans came from, Saarania?" Ulthyr leant over the map, his eyes flitting about the other worlds in the subsector.

"Our portal remains under lockdown until we can find a bonesinger with past experience on Webway gates, Uly, and no, you will not ask the ranger if she possesses knowledge on the matter. I have prior plans in place for her."

"The hunt?"

"I would see how competent the ranger is in stalking the prey. It will be a harmless exercise. I too yearn to see the sun, Uly."

"The ranger's children?"

"No. The ranger may spy opportunity to abduct them. They will remain aboard."

"Abduct them? They are her children, Saarania. I do not see how you can justify—"

"Well, could we try again, Uly?" Saarania came around to Ulthyr and perched upon the map surface. "Just try one more time." She caressed Ulthyr's arm.

"I caused you great hurt before, my love. Never again. Never again." Ulthyr drew Saarania in to his breast, nuzzling her hair. "This torture of the ranger dishonours us."

"Our line cannot die with us, Uly." Saarania turned her head to kiss Ulthyr's neck. "I value our lives, our dynasty, over any half-breed whore."

Ulthyr murmured in agreement. "Let us save ourselves for when the sun kisses our skin. Patience, my love. Patience."

---

Platis V orbit, Bhein Morr Subsector – Two days later

At last. Izuru opened her eyes at the rap upon her door, rising, and sorting out the kinks in her robes. Derin met her. Flanking him were six armed corsairs. Saeros stood off to one side, his head lowered.

"We are planetbound, my lady. If you would accompany me, please."

"Might I inquire as to our destination?"

Derin gave Izuru a knowing look. "Our current destination is a Tetron, awaiting us in the hangar, my lady." Derin invited Izuru to walk alongside him. "If you please."

"And from there? I was not privy to the conference…"

"Won't you wait and see?"

"Always this reticent, Felarch?"

"I am at the prince and princess's command, Lady Numerial. It is their kindness that grants you this freedom."

"Then I must be thankful for such gracious wardens." Izuru replied, her jaw tightening. What am I saying?

There was a good deal more activity in the Gorynych's passageways than usual, so much so that not a single leer or lewd comment was given; the corsairs too preoccupied with mobilising for planetfall. But where though? Izuru eyed the hectic activity when she and her escort took to the hangar bay. Nightwings trailed fuel pipes, their crew buzzing about the fighters to prep them for operations. Tetron transports sat with their bellies wide open. Corsairs scuttled to and from the cargo bays, bearing crates of supplies in to the empty vaults. One container, borne aloft by a pair, fell from a corsair's grasp, landing upon the other's toes. The resulting screech was deadened only by the mask the corsair wore.

"A finely-tuned machine," Izuru said, straight-faced, meeting Derin's pale stare.

"Your… your pardon." Derin rushed over to the mob of corsairs, shouting and gesticulating.

Blunderers and malingerers. What sort of company do I find myself in? A human would be less clumsy. Izuru tutted to herself, tucking her hands inside her sleeves. Around her, the corsairs stood silent, their hands resting on their sheathed blades.

"Apologies." Derin returned. "Let us embark."

Pressed in next to Derin and Saeros inside the Tetron's narrow crew compartment, Izuru fidgeted, keeping her eyes upon the deck. Not a single viewport granted her an exterior view. Sitting directly opposite her, the corsairs watched. Damn this shackle. Izuru tugged at the manacle. I must be free of it. Derin is surely under orders to give nothing away in advance. Leaning forwards,Izuru made fists with her hands. Anger me, you will not, so-called princess. Know I will bide my time, for there is no one more patient than a ranger. Soon you will learn the consequence of coming between a mother and her offspring.

A turbulent half-hour later, the grumble of the Tetron's engines died away. "Never one for in-atmosphere travel," Derin remarked, picking up his conical helmet from where it sat between his feet. "If you would remain here, please. Take care when rising. Headroom is lacking."

Izuru glanced up at the bulkhead above, raising her eyebrows at the sloping angle that forced Derin to stoop. I think not, Felarch. Derin took five of the corsairs with him, leaving one at the far end of the crew compartment, guarding the accessway to the hold. How many paces to the guard? How many other crew are there aboard? Does the guard favour his left or right hand? Izuru toiled over the variables for no other reason than to keep her mind sharp. Too soon. Too soon. Opportunity will arise. I must play the part of executioner for now. A handful of humans are nothing to me. Next to her, Saeros remained silent. Derin returned within the hour, greeting the corsair then beckoning to Izuru. "My lady, come."

Sore muscles complaining, Izuru followed Derin down to the hold, bringing a hand up to her brow when her eyes protested at the bright sunlight outside. "I can say with brutal honesty that genuine sunlight far eclipses the artificial light the craftworld provides."

"I can only imagine." Derin waited upon the lowered ramp for Izuru. "If you require a moment…"

In defiance of the harsh glare, Izuru straightened her back, lifted her head, and followed Derin down to a field of thick, green grass. "I would know our whereabouts now, Felarch."

"Platis Five. Apparently untouched by war or the industrial claw of the Imperium." Derin fitted his helmet. "I would call this a worthy find."

Two other Tetrons had already landed, their squat underbellies disgorging supplies. Far-flung sentries patrolled the nearby hills that made an upside-down U shape around the landing zone.

"I eagerly anticipate taking the air." Izuru scanned a line of conifers about seventy-five yards distant, searching for the unnatural shapes of the corsairs. Facing inwards or outwards, I wonder? "Sights rest upon my heart, do they not, Felarch?"

"Without provocation, my corsairs simply observe. You have naught to fear, my lady," Derin replied.

"I am as much a prisoner here as I am on the ship. I have not forgotten my predicament, Felarch. You would do well to remember your position as warden. We are not friends."

"I meant unless provoked, Saarania has no cause to harm you. She is loathe to waste talent."

"She knows nothing of my talents!" Izuru spat. "I will not perform for her, for I do not wish her to see how I fight."

"You will have no choice, Lady Numerial," Derin whispered through his teeth. "If you give Saarania reason to dispose of you, she will. As it stands, you have done nothing to offend her. Give her a performance. Intrigue her. But, please do not antagonise her."

"The felarch speaks wisdom, my lady," Saeros said in a quiet voice. "He is not a bad person—"

"Be silent, whelp."

"You will do nothing to offend me also, lady." Derin stared. "Again, I would advise courtesy when addressing a fellow corsair. Saeros will do anything for you, up to acting against the interests of the Void Dragons."

A colour rose in Saeros's cheeks. Turning away, he brought a hand up to his face.

"And I would advise Saeros to begin acting his age."

"Take him with you. Show him what it means to be a ranger—"

"Against unarmed humans, I can show naught but slaughter. He will learn nothing from this but how to shoot helpless prey in the back."

"Teach him the hunt. Teach him to track; to live off the land." Derin took Izuru aside, out of earshot of Saeros. "The experience will mature him. Bolster his spirit with confidence. Too long has he languished aboard the Gorynych, passed over for a chance to prove himself. This will teach him the evil ways of this galaxy. Hunt or be hunted to extinction."

Izuru remained staring up at Derin for a time, her lips pursed. "What choice do I have?"

"I would say enjoy the air while you are able. The princess has yet to arrive. You are free to wander, though do not stray too far."

"Eyes in the sky?"

"I was thinking more about my corsairs. We have orders to restrain you, should attempt be made to escape. If restraining is impossible, you will be shot."

Izuru toyed with an idea forming in her head. "A full cycle, twenty-four standard hours in which you will all – every single one of you – hunt me. If I elude you, I shall rejoin your company, Felarch. If not, you will leave me here."

"Now, that challenge I am all for." Derin grinned. "If only the princess…"

"If only the princess."

"Am I welcome to remain in your company, or would you prefer a wander alone?"

"You may accompany me, Felarch. Saeros remains."

"Very well. Saeros, assist where you can. We will not be gone for long."

Through a golden-brown glade, Izuru strolled, the felarch by her side. Leaves crunched underfoot, brisk gusts spreading the semi-naked branch's leaves across the forest floor. It was Derin who broke the silence. "Denizen of craftworlds three, I hear?"

"Iyanden, Alaitoc, and so-recently Ulthwé."

"Your offspring are Ulthwé-sired?"

Izuru's stomach clenched. Clamping her jaw shut, she fixed her gaze on the natural beauty of the glade.

"If I intruded…" Derin trailed off.

I would prefer silence over awkward small-talk.

The felarch did not speak until he was hailed by a corsair. "The prince and princess make their descent, my lady. Come."

"Your pardon, I would prefer to remain out of sight for this corsair's gathering, Felarch. I can think of no frostier a committee for a foreigner."

"It is required, lady."

Izuru sighed. "Then let this pirate's party come quickly to a close."

"You have my word, eyes will not be drawn to you. I shall see off any unwanted pursuers."

"I ask not for your protection, Felarch, noble as it may be. It is not necessary."

"Just be aware, Saarania may use this occasion to discredit you."

"Hmph. Then I will show her just what this ranger is capable of."

A full pavilion with awning had been erected during Izuru's absence. Low and wide, the pavilion, resplendent in the Void Dragons' crimson and deep bronze, flapped in the breeze. Reclining couches were arranged underneath, platters of food laid out within easy reach. Decadence to rival the Druchii's. Izuru scoffed as she and Derin approached the gangs of corsairs, busy with the preparations.

"The Rhazus approaches!" Derin's voice was lost in the sonic boom from a Zephyr-Class fighter's engines. Nosing over the treetops after a minute of remaining unseen, the sleek craft spun around, swamping the clearing with jet-wash.

"Quite a fancy for entrances, the commander has!" Derin shouted.

Izuru peered through the cracks between her fingers at a narrow ramp, extending from underneath the purring engine nozzles. Arm in arm, as ever, the prince and princess came forth.

"Bow," Derin muttered, just loud enough for Izuru to hear.

"They are not my masters."

"Bow, lest you wish to incur her wrath." Derin looked sidelong at Izuru. "I implore you." Other corsairs had already got down on their knees, their eyes lowered. Saeros, a pace behind, did likewise. "Antagonise the princess and she will pass you to either Vliss or Dragut." Derin glanced at a silver-haired corsair, bowing deeply over by the pavilion. "Vliss breaks the mind." The felarch looked directly across Izuru. "Place eyes upon the muscle to your right-front. See?" A hulking corsair, with a head shaved almost bare, save a thin strip atop his crown that ended in two tiny topknots, reared a full head taller than any of his comrades, even whilst kneeling down. "Dragut breaks the body."

"Then my spirit shall be all that remains." Izuru caught Saarania's eye. A tug on her wrist by Derin brought her down to the ground.

"Say not a word more, my lady. The princess commands here."

Tyrant. Izuru, her knees in the grass, kept her head level and watched Saarania and Ulthyr move to the pavilion. Only when both sat upon adjacent reclining couches were the corsairs released from their showing of subservience. Never again. Izuru rose, beating the grass from her robes. "I would stray no closer than this, Felarch."

"Have no fear. The prince and princess will entertain in the meantime. Once boredom sets in, you will be called forward. I await it with growing anticipation."

The shadows lengthened. Alone, just out of sight of the baying corsairs, Izuru sat cross-legged, her back to the pavilion. With one ear vaguely keeping track of the hubbub, Izuru caught a change in the tone of the corsair's voices. High-spirits turned to disbelief then outrage. The human prisoners are summoned. My time is near. Izuru gathered her robes around her, turning back to face the clearing. From the belly of a Tetron, eleven humans, bound to one another by a chain, trailed a corsair in single file. As bedraggled as they were on their unexpected arrival aboard, all eleven, now bare-headed, walked with their heads bowed. Kaela, this will be no challenge at all. I wonder if tongues were loosened by the solitary confinement?

"Corsair." Izuru approached the pike-wielding jailer at the head of the procession. "I would ask the prey questions."

"I do not answer to you, Ranger." The jailer loosened the coiled lash hanging from his belt. Through the slit in his mask, teeth were bared.

"I am interrogator-tutored as well as ranger-trained. I would glean knowledge from the prey before the princess passes judgement."

The jailer's hand drew back from his lash. "My prince."

"What interest have you in the prisoners?" Ulthyr teetered over, a full goblet in his hand.

"The princess?" Izuru looked over Ulthyr's shoulder for any sign of Saarania. Too many drunken corsairs were lounging or stumbling around the pavilion for any sight of the princess however.

"Indisposed. Will you not join me?" Ulthyr wafted the sweet-scented alcohol under Izuru's nose. "Only the finest Saura for the lady."

That is poisonous! How can they drink it?

"By your leave, I would interrogate the prisoners before they are turned loose."

"You speak Gothic?"

"Fluent."

"Well… ask away." Ulthyr sloshed his glass, running his eyes over Izuru before he meandered back to the pavilion.

Drunken lech. Awaken with your mind in tatters. Izuru glared after the prince.

"Kneel. Kneel!" The jailer prodded the prisoners in the backs of their knees with his pike.

"In Gothic." Izuru paced along the line of kneeling humans. "Address the prey in Gothic."

"Why bother with words?" The jailer swiped a human's feet out from under him. "On your knees, prey!"

Izuru paced along the line of humans, each one with slumped shoulders and drooping heads, their collective stench polluting the air she breathed. "Where did you come from?" The rake-like human remained still and silent, sweat staining his cheeks, droplets running down to dampen his beard.

"Where did you come from?" Izuru paused in front of the brutish human, squatting low enough to be at eye level with him. "Where did you come from?"

Purple-lined, vein-streaked eyes stared back at her from under broad eyebrows. From the brute's beard, a mouthful of saliva flew, spraying the grass before Izuru's boots. "Fuck you." The eyebrows knitted themselves together, forming an unbroken line across the brute's forehead. His eyes had become twin cesspits.

"Shall I break the large one's neck?" The jailer stood above the brute, flexing his wrists. "Serve as an example?"

Another human, the next one along from the brute, caught Izuru's eye. The brute watches over the whelp. How touching. The young human in the grey parka shivered, though not out of any chilliness in the air. Both the tip of his nose and his wide ears were tinged with red, a stark difference to the drained colour in his cheeks and brow. Are you frightened, whelp? Izuru pointed at him out to the jailer. "Break the whelp's neck. Ensure the large one sees is."

"It will take naught but a gentle twist." The jailer grinned, his hands wrapping about the whelp's head. The whelp's hands flew up to the jailer's arms, his whimpers stifled by the smothering. A spur of outrage shot through the other prisoners, some grumbling aloud, others getting to their feet. The brute was straight up, shouting in Izuru's face, raising his shackled hands to strike her. Hissing at the human, Izuru swung her flat hand. The blow connected with the brute's temple, silencing his building diatribe and putting him back on his knees. Filth!

"Unhand that prisoner!" Saarania barked.

At once, the jailer dropped the human, backing away and bowing to the approaching princess. The whelp, bent over double, coughed, his face a deep plum. "Your eminence."

Fire welled in Izuru's stomach. A muscle twinging in her cheek, Izuru turned to see Saarania sweeping across the grass, bringing along what looked like half of the pavilion's occupants with her; most of whom leant against one another, toted goblets spilling everywhere. "The prisoners die at my command, not yours." Saarania locked eyes with Izuru, daring her to falter and break their connection.

"Has knowledge been gleaned, or are they already up for slaughter?"

Saarania closed the distance between them, ending up inches from Izuru and looking down upon her. "Do you know your position?" The corners of Izuru's eyes crinkled. Pressing her lips tightly together, she held her tongue. "With me." Saarania turned away, motioning Izuru to accompany her and for her followers to disperse.

We are alone. Izuru realised, remaining impassive and aloof. Marksman follow my movement, no doubt. A brief instance of curiosity deflected Izuru's thoughts from the princess to – of all things – the whelp. "I have observed the prisoners in detail. I would know why the whelp is—"

"Do all humans not look the same?" Saarania cut in.

"Thuggish and cruel. But it would be folly to view the humans as one and the same, Princess."

"Are you saying they have better uses than target practice?" Saarania's path led Izuru in a slow circle, towards the pavilion. "You will show us how fine a markswoman you are." The two drew near to a wooden table with two ranger long rifles laid across the smooth surface. "Captured from Alaitoc ranger cells. You are no doubt familiar with their equipment."

"So, now you are placing a rifle in my hands. What do you expect me to do with it?" Both rifles, a deep obsidian, bore green gems in their slim bodies and took up the length of the table. Neither had their bulb-shaped charge packs loaded.

"Perform for me," Saarania whispered, passing a long rifle to Izuru. "As each human runs, you use that weapon to end his miserable stain of existence. Take it."

Onlookers gathered around, laughing and pointing at the ranger, excited murmurs on the upcoming spectacle buzzing through the throng, a pungent aroma of drink invading Izuru's throttled personal space. Isha, how can one stand a smell so strong?

---

The strange woman in the green robes repeated herself, her cold, hard voice possessing only the faintest trace of an accent. Oh, God, she's coming back. From the corner of my eye, the stickie turned and moved back down to me, her face obscured beneath her hood. Lowering my head, I held my breath. The stickie's question Bulaven deflected with two sharp, biting syllables. What have you done, Bull? I closed my eyes, awaiting the swish of the falling blade. Two cold arms, coated in coarse, rigid mesh, enveloped my head. "Bull!" My plea was smothered by the tightening grip. Hauled up from the grass, I clawed at the stickie's hands, gagging as the fists squeezed the life from my lungs. Then, inexplicably, the stickie's hold slackened. I flopped back down, landing coughing and gasping for breath in the grass. Another female stickie – this one wearing a surcoat draped over body armour – yammering away, approached Bull's would-be judge and executioner, the latter's feet shuffling backwards, the former standing firm and meeting the newcomer's eyes. They're at odds with each other, I realised, seeing the stickie's tightly clenched fists and pursed lips. Why are they arguing? Is this about me?

"You alright, James?" Bulaven whispered, his bound hands finding my shoulder. I gave a tiny nod, following the two tall xenos on their roundabout trek. Throne, she's got to be well over six foot. The one in charge looks closer to seven.

"Up. Up!" The pike-wielding stickie, moving around to our front, gestured, poking those too slow get up with the point of his weapon. A jerk on the end of the chain dragged our stumbling line towards the red tent, where a horde of stickies caroused. At our approach, hoots and yells erupted from the xenos.

"What do they want with us, huh?" Davir muttered behind me.

"Kneel." The pike-toting stickie planted his butt in the grass, butchering the pronunciation of the single-syllable word in to something near indiscernible. Folding my knees under me, I sat down on the grass field in front of the pavilion, the Vardans following suit. The strange, gushing, xenos language rolled in to my ears, the accents and emphasis on random words utterly abstract. What the hell are they saying?

"You run." Pike-wielder thrust a fist at a Vardan six men down from me. "You run. Fast." More cackles and snorts of laughter broke out. A sharp clack came from the Vardan's shackles. Unbound, the Vardan was wrenched upright and booted away from us.

"Restor," Bulaven said under his breath.

"You run now!" The pike was lowered, its owner grinning.

Wide-eyes darting between the sharpened point and the xenos that held it, Restor's mouth opened. Shrill laughter came from the stickies. A lasbeam shrieked over my head, the warmth tickling my hair. The ten of us ducked at the sound, pressing our heads to our breasts. Thumping in to the grass at Restor's feet, spurring him to start running, the bolt kicked off a tiny puff of smoke that was followed by a finger of flame rising from the singed earth. Restor had nothing but open ground to cover for an unnervingly great stretch. Trees and bushes offered a tantalising

"C'mon, zig-zag, you prick," Skargo said through gritted teeth.

"Nah, no way. It's too far," Bulaven breathed. Restor hared away from us, his flight sporadically pursued by lasbeams. Each missed shot was applauded, with further exclamations given by the audience.

"They're too drunk to shoot straight…" Davir glanced at me. "Oi, they're pissed outta their minds. We've just got to—"

Restor's back exploded in a haze of burnt fabric, blood, and boiling skin. As if the floor was yanked out from under him, Restor fell face-first in to the grass. Outbursts of delight prompted Pike-wielder to release another Vardan. "Ziskl." Bulaven shook his head. "One-by-one…"

"You run."

"Huh?" Ziskl grimaced. "Number ten—" A shot burned through Ziskl's brow, melting the bone and peeling the bubbling skin back from the fountain of blood, launching from the back of his head to decorate the grass behind him. Pike-wielder spun, raising a finger and screaming at whoever had fired. Stomping between us, Pike-wielder waded in to the stickies. A chorus of thumps and yelps reached our ears.

"I've got some loose—" Pike-wielder's return interrupted Bulaven. From our number, he picked another stranger.

"You run."

"Jiesen. Don't hesitate." Bulaven met Jiesen's gaze. "Move!"

A rushed oath flying from Jiesen's lips, the Vardan bolted. Wild shots snapped at Jiesen, pursuing his headlong flight from death.

"That's it, do the S-shape, Ji."

"C'mon, Ji, mate."

Little bigger than a speck to me, Jiesen pirouetted and fell on his back. "Was he hit?" Davir said in my ear. "I didn't see no blood."

"Maybe they'll let it go?" Skargo took off his glasses and squinted at the dark shape. Pike-wielder hefted his weapon and sprinted out to the body. Throne, he's fast. How the hell does he move so quick with that armour on?

"Oh, God-Emperor…" I croaked. Pike-wielder rammed his weapon in to Jiesen, twisted, then kicked the body away. The shining bladehead he held up in the air, to raucous approval.

Eight more of us. I looked to Bulaven, Davir, and Skargo. What do we do?

"I might have something. Standby." Bulaven licked his lips. "Just wait."

Pike-wielder dragged Jiesen and Restor's bodies back by their ankles, dumping them with Ziskl in a spot away from the tent. "James, put your hand out. Pass these cartridges to D."

"You get overlooked?" D picked the brass slugs from my hands and passed some to Skargo.

"They're gonna burn the bodies. When one of us runs, dump 'em in the fire. Wait for it to get hot first though."

Throne, Bull's right. A splatter of liquid fuel soaked the three bodies. Pike-wielder hurled the container away and tossed a crackling flare in their midst. "Another!" he crowed, raising two fingers.

"Oh, shit." Fraught glances were passed up and down the file. Two of us now? A tremble took over in my jaw. I stuffed my hand in to the folds of Bull's jacket. Pike-wielder leered at Skargo, snatching the glasses from him and crushing them in his hands. "Two run. Two run." Davir, shaking, was pulled up alongside Skargo. Nodding, Bulaven winked and tilted his head at the developing blaze. "Dump 'em."

A hushed silence fell over the crowd, with only the snapping of weapons receiving ammunition making any noise. I held my breath, tracking Davir and Skargo, who skewed to the right and scattered their cartridges as they leapt over the bodies. "That's it. Split-split-split." Bulaven grinned. "Cover your ears, James."

---

What sport is to be had in the clumsy elimination of defenceless humans? Izuru leant against a stout support, holding the corner of the pavilion up and looked on, her arms folded, as the jailer made a pile with the three dead humans and set them alight. The next to be selected, a pair this time – a weaselly runt and a bony redhead with glasses the jailer smashed – broke to the right, heading for the flames and leaping through. Why the detour? Izuru caught a faint glint of something disappearing in to the fire. What did they drop there? Izuru pushed away from the post and opened her mouth. "Your eminence," she called. Terrific pops pelted her ears. Tides of screaming corsairs scattered, crashing in to one another, falling over tables, sending food and drink scattering. Snap shots zipped outwards as the prince and princess's bodyguards unloaded on the surrounding landscape. Pushing and shoving her way through the bedlam, Izuru caught sight of the fleeing pair of humans. "Shoot the humans. Shoot the humans!" The precious few lasblasters that fired came nowhere near, their operators had not a single trace of hand-eye coordination left in their addled brains. "Fools, drunken fools!" Izuru bellowed. "The humans threw cartridges in the fire. You shoot at your shadows!"

Princess Saarania reclined in the middle of the chaos, Ulthyr's head resting in her lap. Bodyguards had formed a thick cordon around her. "Princess." Izuru glared at a helmeted corsair who pushed the muzzle of his lasblaster at her. "Princess, the humans deposited cartridges in to the fire. This bedlam is for naught."

"Oh, release the others and hunt them down one-by-one." Saarania waved her hand. "I tire of this farce. I am indisposed." She slapped her bondmate's cheek. Ulthyr had passed out. "As is he." Saarania pried a bulbous charge pack, intended for a long rifle, from where it was clipped to a corsair's belt and tossed it to Izuru. "Do come back. Or don't come back. We are away once the sun dips below the horizon."

"I will not carry out this elimination order unless bondage is removed." Izuru tapped the mind-shackle. A silent order was given by Saarania, and a corsair came forwards. For a moment he interfaced with the shackle, then Izuru's mind was free. With the floodgates opened, Izuru burst outwards, her consciousness bouncing off that of every other being nearby. Saarania rebuffed the inquisitive prod, smirking.

Quietly cursing the humans, Izuru found the jailer restraining the prisoners and ordered him to release the remaining six. "The princess's orders," she added. "Do it now." Shackle by shackle dropped to the ground, unbinding the half dozen humans. Izuru sought the long rifles and found Saeros at the table, one of the pieces in his hands. "Put down that weapon. You are not trained in its use, corsair," Izuru snapped. "I would not run with an amateur."

"Recall the words we had before," Derin said from behind her. "Teach him the hunt."

"He will hinder more than he will help. I would be better suited with you accompanying me." Izuru screwed the charge pack in to the long rifle's socket.

"Well, that is exactly what is going to happen." Derin smiled. "The princess's orders."

Izuru slung the long rifle and regarded the corsairs, short and tall. "Fall behind and I will not return for you. Let us fly."

A change in the wind drew the sweetly smouldering stench of flesh across the pavilion, with thin streams of smoke following. Already, the six humans were mere smudges in the distance. "Observe." Izuru led Saeros and Derin away from the smoke and sat down, crossing her legs and resting her weapon in her arms. "I can teach you naught. You will learn naught while you are in my company because I shall teach you naught. All you may do is observe and follow my lead. Do you both understand?"

"Perfectly, Lady Numerial."

"Yes, my lady." Saeros sat bolt upright beside Derin. "Shouldn't we be giving chase?"

"Quiet now, young Saeros. Let the lady demonstrate."

The triple-tapping warble of her heartbeat rescinding to more-comfortable levels, Izuru stroked the rifle's smooth body, humming to it, extending her mind to greet it. Khaine steady my aim, for I am out of practice. Izuru gathered every last scrap of air inside her lungs and exhaled, loosening her muscles. One with the weapon. Opening her eyes, Izuru picked out a speck of colour, moving right to left, lifted her rifle and shouldered in a single motion. For you, Father. Izuru's finger touched the firing stud. Without pause, a beam, invisible to the naked eye, surged from the muzzle, the arrow-straight path leaving nothing but a thin trail of kicked-up dirt in the air. It covered the three-hundred and fifty yards in less time it took Izuru to blink. Raising her muzzle, Izuru checked the charge and slung the rifle.

"You did not even look." Saeros gaped.

"The human fell. She made her tally." Derin pressed the butt of his long rifle in to the ground, springing to his feet. "After the rest. Follow the lady, Saeros. Keep from falling behind. I will not wait, and she will most certainly not wait."

---

Leaves whipped at my face, tree branches dragging at my sleeves and trouserlegs. With the sunlight receding behind me, I tore through thickets, my feet carrying me downhill. "Here. Down here!" Bulaven called.

"Where?" I gasped, skidding down on my side underneath a bush. "Bull?"

"Here." Bull's hands reached out to me. "No-no, don't stop here. They'll be coming."

"Where's Skargo?"

"Down here." Skargo's voice came from further down the slope. "Any more with you, Bull?"

"Just Larn."

"Right, fall in, boys. We're pullin' back."

"After Skargo, James. Do what they do." Bulaven propelled me after Skargo, Davir, and three other Vardans. "Nice job with the brass, Scholar. Put the shit up the stickies."

"Wha' 'bout me, huh?" Davir cried. "I did just as—"

"Shush, shush! Noise discipline, my boys. Stickies can hear good, see better, and run faster than us. Spread out and keep quiet. Speed and caution," Skargo whispered, gesturing at us to increase our dispersion.

"Thought I'd never see a bloody forest or even a speck of green in my sorry clap-ridden life again." Bull hissed to me. "The Crotch sure has issued us a gold-covered turd of a detail with these stickies. Fuck!"

"Oi, Bull, we gotta keep quiet, yeah. Skargo says." I shook my head.

Bull merely winked. "We handled greenskins. We can handle stickies, sure as the Crotch gave us back our freedom just now."

What about those four the stickies murdered? What were their names again?

"Chin up. Always looks ahead, James, never back. That what keeps us going, and it's gonna keep you going when we're gone."

But who's going to show me what to when you're gone then? I can't go on alone. I don't know anything. I shuddered at the thought of losing my friends, even if they did not regard me in the same way.

"Hurry, hurry." Bull picked up his pace. "Move it, James."

Downhill we hared, the gentle slope easing our flight from the stickies. How many? How far? Seven pairs ofstarved, greedy lungs groaned for oxygen. Not a sound came from the seven, aside from grunts and the thumping of boots upon grass and dead tree branches. How long? Time was now measured only in the soreness of my feet and heavy ache in my limbs. The sun's sparse glint could only peer through cracks in the forest roof at us.

"Oh!" A whizz-crack of a projectile passed over my head, searing through thin boughs to burn a black hole in a dry tree trunk.

"Ssh, s'okay, they're firing high. They don't know where we are." Bull flapped an arm at me. "Keep going."

If that was a near-miss, what's a direct hit going to look like? Throne, that could have been me. I slapped a stitch in my side, spitting at the ground passing below my feet. "I've gotta stop, Bull."

"Can't stop, m'boy. Dig out."

A harsh oath spat out by a Vardan brought me to a stumbling halt. "Who's that?"

"Help, I'm wedged!" A Vardan was stuck in the ground, his lower torso and legs completely invisible. "C'mon, gimme a hand here."

Hands hauled the Vardan up from the hole. Both his boots and trouser hems were sodden. "Aw, it's flooded down there. Bloody soaked through," the Vardan exclaimed.

"That's a man-made hole, no question." Skargo peered in. "Not alone out here, boys."

"Yeah, can we—" The tree trunk behind us bursting in half cut the Vardan off.

"Move!" Bulaven pushed me away from the others. "James, get outta here."

"Split up!" Davir cried.

"No, stay together." Skargo kicked at anybody too slow to move.

"Aren't they getting tired o' this by now?" Somebody snarled.

"Shush! No, cause they're following your voice, Krest." Skargo shot.

More lasfire pursued us, zipping through the underbrush, kicking off tiny fires here and there. How the hell are we supposed to outrun stickies? On and on we ran, still shots came after us. How many stickies?

Bulaven caught me as I was hopping around a thick tree root and lifted me behind the trunk. "There's only a few of 'em. I've been counting the shots."

"What?" I panted. "How many then?"

"Four, maybe five. Could be less but I reckon it's around that number. Down you go." Bulaven's slab-hands lowered me to a hollow where the others had taken cover.

"Fuck it, I'm ballbagged." Davir flexed his toes inside his boots. "Haven't had to run that fast since I had to scarper from the colonel on Alva Four."

"Why d'you…?"

"Shagged his daughter, didn't I?" Davir stuck a hand down his waistband. "Perky little fifteen-year-old."

"Not now, D!" Skargo cuffed Davir about his ear.

"Wouldn't have minded seconds too…"

"Ssh!"

"Give it a minute, boys. See what Bull spots."

Perched upon the edge of a gnarly tree root, I leant forwards, easing the oxygen in to my lungs. A hand patted me on the shoulder. Whose hand it was, I did not know.

"Hey, they've stopped shooting," Davir said, his hands full with retying his laces. "Maybe they lost us."

"Don't want to be inviting anything upon us now, do ya, D?" A Vardan made a grab for Davir's crotch. "Left a present for you, did she?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." D stretched out his leg and nudged at me. "Don't be taking advice from Uncle D now, ballbag. I'm a bad influence."

"Pfft." Skargo stifled a chortle. "Looks like the brains still haven't leaked out your headgear there, D."

"Never had any to start with, Scholar. The Crotch don't recruit you for your brains, 'less of course you're a lifer. We grunts get wasted so the lifers can win medals, handjobs, and promotions from the generals."

"Nothing truer spoken."

"Yup."

"But I ain't dying to these xenos fucks. No, sir, I'm taking lead or frag from a human being." Davir's face sunk. "Not getting wasted on account of stickies. I'm choosing my way out, thank you very much."

"Sorry for dragging you in to this," I said. "All o' you, I'm sorry."

Bulaven dropped down to us before anybody could reply. "Okay, Scholar, let's move 'em out. Maybe single file now, eh?"

"Ho." Skargo made to take his glasses from his breast pocket then slapped his hand against it. "Xenos bastards broke my glasses. Shits."

"Oh, that's torn it. They'd better head for the hills now they've got you gunning for 'em." Bulaven chuckled. "James, move out."

Heading out in single file now, the seven padded onwards. Third in the line behind Davir and in front of Bulaven, I threw glances at the distant canopy, where strips of grey sky offered the most fleeting traces of light and frugal warmth. "Eyes on the ground, James. Keep an eye out."

That hole back there. Just who dug that then? Any other Guard or even PDF here? Wherever here is. I haven't got a clue what planet we're even on now. It's not Bastille or Seltura Seven, that's for damn sure. Was I wrong to lead the others through the gate? I mean, we're away from Butcher's Rock. This place don't even look half bad. A jolt in my stomach reminded me of the stickies closing in on us.

"Careful," Davir said to me, raising a hand behind himself. "Getting pretty sheer down here. Watch your footing."

"I've got you, James. Keep going."

Dirt slid out from underneath my boot, the hobnails finding no purchase on the sloping ground. Tree roots grew outwards, granting us handholds in our slowing descent of the hillside. Maybe they have lost us. Maybe we're free.

"Krest!"

A scrape of wool on dirt and Krest slithered down the slope, his hands scrabbling for purchase. Gathering speed, Krest grabbed at a tree but lost his grip, disappearing further down.

"Shit," Skargo said.

"I'm going." Bull let go of the ridge he was holding.

"Bull, don't you dare, you'll fall down there too." Davir, retaining one hand on a root, reached out for Bulaven with the other. "Please, Bull."

Throne, he never made a sound! I stared at the spot Krest had fallen from. "Maybe he's alright. Maybe he's climbing back up."

"He had enough sense not to shout out." Skargo turned his head before I could see his face cracking. "I can hear a river down in the valley. Confuse the stickies."

Turning my head constantly, I wobbled along the river; more a shallow stream really. Piles of loose stones broke apart under my feet. The black leather ankle boots and Guard-issue cotton socks I wore gave no protection against the chilly fingers of the water which found entry in every single crack in the leather, soaking my socks through.

"The sound masks our progress," Bulaven said.

"Yeah, but do the trees watch?" A Vardan replied.

"Uh?"

"Ancient forest spirits. You remember those tales on Vardan?"

"Renko, our trees could up and move. The conifers here don't quite make the cut."

"Your forests move?" I threw an odd look over my shoulder.

"Hm, yeah, James. We got fish that live in trees too."

I frowned, a muscle jimmying in my upper lip.

"Nah, we haven't got those, James. Just pulling your leg." Bulaven's mouth disappeared beneath his hairy chops. His eyes blinked and twinkled.

A flicker of a grin ghosted my face. "An' we got squirrels that live in the sky."

"Where?"

"Jumael Four. My home."

"Miss it?"

"Yeah."

"Green as this place?"

"So green I got sick of it."

"Sounds like a gem. Lucky boy, James."

Not even the dampness plaguing my feet soured my spirits. Once we clambered up on to the riverbank after a long stretch with wet feet, it was through a warmer, brighter patch of woods, where flowers grew, we trekked.

"Poor Chelkar and that. They probably think we got buried alive." Davir wiped sticky mud from his heel against a root.

"Hey, we stopped the lifers from using that xenos tech to run out on us." Skargo tasted a clump of berries he picked from a bush. "Mmm, getting one up on the officers beats anything."

"Pass 'em round." Bulaven sniffed at the purple berries. "Could be poisonous. Careful."

"Aw, no worse than when Zeebers tried gobbling roast Ork." Davir tittered, shovelling the berries down.

"Hmph, stomach cramps after these, I bet. Be shitting out berry juice tomorrow."

I swallowed the bitter, sour berries, crushed in to a mush between my teeth. "Picking pips out your teeth for the next week and a half." Bulaven laughed. After several helpings, I was feeling quite sick of berries and wiped my purple-stained hands on my trousers, leaving stains in the cotton. Armpits warm with sweat, I took off my parka and folded it over my arm. How long ago was it that I was crawling through the mud, in fear of the Orks, and unable to walk? Throne, I could almost be back in Phase One, it's that peaceful out here. What ever happened to those stickies then?

"Is that an earthquake?" I said, startling Davir.

"Earthquake – what?" Davir shoved a finger in his right ear and wiggled. "Scholar, you hear anything?"

"James, what do you hear?" Bulaven touched my shoulder. "Hold up, boys."

"Can't you 'ear it?" I shut my eyes and lifted a hand up to my face, uncurling my fingers. "A rumble."

"I mean, it's lost on me. You're probably not as deaf as us old sods, Larn."

"Yeah. Yeah, there's something." Skargo waved us onwards. "I think I know what it is."

"Pick it up, pick it up. Double-time, James." Bulaven chivvied me along.

"Wish I could hear good as you, scumbag." Davir worked his little finger in deeper. "Aw, that's a lot of gunk in there."

"Yeah. Boys, it's armour. There's tanks out here somewhere. Maybe tracks. I can't tell." Skargo began to jog. "Roads, dirt tracks, anything; just be on the lookout."

"Friendlies?"

"I dunno, the Crotch didn't issue me with a good pair of working lie detectors." Davir replied.

Once more assuming our heightened pace, we doubled through the thinning glades. Thicker shafts of light shone down to the floor. Blue sky was above us. A warm breeze drifted through the trees to greet the half-dozen strangers on this strange world.